gh, and Paul rose to
address the jury.

I cannot here give in detail the speech which he delivered, cannot
describe the intensity with which he spoke, although I watched the
trial from day to day. I can only convey a vague impression, not only
of the speech which he delivered, but of the effect of his words. Even
now I can see him standing in the dock, quietly arranging his papers
with firm, steady hands, and then pushing them away as if they could be
of no use to him. I can see the steady light in his eyes; the pale,
clear-cut face; strong, determined features, upright form. I can feel,
too, the tremendous emotion which seemed to overwhelm all present. But
these things cannot be conveyed in cold print; they can only be hinted
at.

He commenced by saying that he stood there accused of the most serious
of charges. It had been urged that he was guilty of murder, and there
could be no doubt that a murder had been committed. It was not a
question of pleading for partial forgiveness. No question of mercy
could be considered. Either he was guilty of murder or he was not, for
undoubtedly the deceased man had been murdered. If he had been guilty
of that murder, then the jury would do right to pronounce that verdict;
if not, then they took upon themselves the responsibility of condemning
an innocent man to death.

"The counsel for the prosecution," urged Paul, "has mentioned something
about giving me the benefit of a doubt. There is no matter of benefit
in it, and I decline to accept the term. It is only a matter of
justice. It is only justice I desire. My lord and gentlemen of the
jury, I have refused to enter the witness-box, not because I desired to
keep back anything in relation to the murder, for in truth I know
absolutely nothing, but because I might be, probably should be, asked
questions on matters on which I desire to remain silent. I appeal to
your understanding in relation to this. There are secret matters--ay,
and sacred matters--in everyone's life which one does not wish to be
discussed by the world at large, and it is for this reason, and this
reason only, that I have declined to go into the witness-box. If it
were simply a matter of dealing with my connection with the death of
the deceased man, I would gladly answer any question that may be asked,
because, as I repeat, I know nothing.

"The learned counsel has also referred to my decision to be my own
defender, and has admitted that I may pos